


Strangers in the Night

by Alcath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chap3 is where they're going to be lovey-dovey, Galra Keith (Voltron), Keith as a Galra soldier for that matter, Keith won't tolerate any nonsense, Keitor Month 2018, Lotor is a pining mess you'll see, M/M, People are gonna get scorched before that happens, What if Lotor didn't escape from his Generals at the end of S04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcath/pseuds/Alcath
Summary: Keethri was used to loneliness; being the sole half-blood aboard it wasn't surprising. It wasn't that bad, though. After all, he was a soldier serving his empire which was something that few half-bloods could boast about.Life... Life was tolerable.Then Lotor happened.Part of the KeitorMonth2018.Chapter 1 stands for the prompt "Trust/Betrayal" while the 2nd is "Past/Future". Both chapters are part of the same story, though.





	1. Don't get too close

**Author's Note:**

> I saw April was Keitor month? I couldn't not take part! Also I wanted to try another way of writing so... tell me if you like it?  
> Be warned: this story is mainly written from Keith's pov and you'll have to wait for chap2 before seeing that Keitor tag into action!  
> Enjoy! (And kudo/comment if you like! :))  
> [Also I'm here if you wanna talk Keitor with me!](http://catabase-two-point-oh.tumblr.com/)

The prisoner was not moving.

Brov remained silent, stepped back and left as Keethri took his spot, back to the wall with his eyes trained on the profile of the man behind the see-through wall.

His shoulders slumped, leaning forward with his face in hands and a pair of heavy shackles locked around his wrists, the prince was a stark contrast to the confident young man who fought Throk the day of his return from the fringes.

The vibrant uniform had been traded for the standardized black suit given to every cadet, freedom for captivity. The man’s control had slipped through his fingers the moment his Generals abandoned him leaving him stunned and defenceless. Time had not been kind-hearted with the former heir.

He wondered how long it would take before the other broke.

Not that he could be blamed when he finally caved in. Before being locked down, that Galra had been tracked for weeks on end only captured when his allies unveiled their true faces.

Keethri wrinkled his nose, every soldier of this fleet knew they had nothing to do with the arrest.

No, even hounded by countless captains, the Galra prodigy had managed to evade capture until four quintants ago when he was sold to Haggar in exchange for his former Generals' own freedom.

What a victory for the fearsome Galra Empire!

Prince Lotor’s tricky eyes were on him, his attention drawn by Keethri’s turmoil and his scent was now layered, his bitterness and overwhelming anger tinged with curiosity.

The solider's grip on his blaster tightened, a clear warning if the other was planning something foolish. They glared at each other – or he tried what with his helmet uncovering only his mouth – until the traitor’s focus shifted back to the grey wall facing his cot.

 

* * *

 

They were still waiting for Zarkon’s summon.

What was supposed to be a short mission for Commander Ladnok was taking longer than expected and the crew was growing restless. With Voltron wreaking havoc here and there, the main fleet was in damage-control mode and Keethri’s ship was to remain stationed near the Outer Rim; a place so far away from power struggles that no one would think to look for Prince Lotor there.

If someone was looking for him.

Moreover, few people flew around there which made for a good spot when you wanted to monitor the ebb and flow of arrivals (and make sure your prisoner could not escape unnoticed).

It was lonely.

 

* * *

 

Did he not remember he had a son?

 

* * *

 

You’d think being Zarkon’s son, even if a bit treacherous, would equal preferential treatments.

At least, that was what had been whispered by other draftees when he was still a trainee at Central. There, dark words about their volatile prince would spilled out of their mouths like venom, the atmosphere of the sleeping quarters heavy with malice and envy.

Not that they ever admitted the last one. 

The guard nodded in his direction and strode away, happy to be relieved from her shift.

Clearly, he thought absentmindedly, those guys had never met Prince Lotor.

It had been a week since the fugitive was brought onto Keethri’s ship and he no longer looked so down. Despite what was expected he had not complained, the lack of amenity and privacy seemingly doing nothing to him. Even his initial ire had faded away and turned into acceptance.

Unlike other inmates, he never tried to speak to them.

The white noise produced by machinery the sole noise disrupting the silence of the cells.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes he wondered if Prince Lotor also felt lonely.

 

* * *

 

The answer was obvious. What a silly question.

 

* * *

 

At one point, those on guard duty were called to participate in a meeting with the few captains and lieutenants aboard since Commander Ladnok wanted to hear their assessments of the royal convict.

Inside that cold room where the light was absorbed by the dark red and purple of their body suits of armour, the light grey of Keethri’s group – so similar to the sentries - stood out. It was as much a means to distinguish their rank as it was a way to remind you of your place.

Draal, ever so fearless, stepped forward and asked if Prince Lotor should be given something to escape from boredom. A huge Captain with a scaly head sniggered and the rest of them laughed along.

With their colour for all to see, prejudice was even easier than it had been back at Central.

It was refused.

Likewise, when Keethri’s turn came and he brought into attention the bruised, black skin of the prince’s wrists where the cuffs were starting to irritate the flesh, etching angry marks on it, Commander Ladnok brushed it off. Medicines would not be waste on a traitor.

Keethri watched in mute silence as he was mocked by his superiors for his compassion, the scowl on his otherwise covered face the sole hint at his true thoughts. His emotions on tight leash, he minutely inspected them to make sure that nothing would give him away.

What he had… not a lot of half-bloods were allowed outside of Central where they were hidden away to do menial jobs. Keethri was lucky to be where he was even if he would never be promoted – contrary to Commander Ladnok’s mixed inheritance that was far removed, Keethri’s was too obvious to be disregarded.

Ladnok was not kind but she was one of the few who did not take kindly to discrimination. She did not ban it per say but everybody knew to fear her wrath.

(When he first arrived, a lieutenant had tried to turn him into his personal minion. Keethri would never tell her that as she cut the idiot down to size, her pupils had glowed.)

Really, Keethri was lucky to be part of her crew. It could have been so much worse. He could have had to obey to Commander Morvok.

It really was fortunate. That was why he did not say anything when Commander Ladnok asked him if he wanted to add something else to his debrief.

 

* * *

 

Haggar had stopped off once.

Keethri had not stayed long enough to know the true reasons behind her visit although he could safely infer that it had to do with their guest.

Commander Ladnok had been displeased when she showed up and demanded to see Prince Lotor but it was not as if she could refuse. So, like her crew, she suffered silently, settling for observing the witch from afar and ordering her soldiers around. That was fine, they knew how to put up with their leader’s tart tongue.

Lotor had been aboard for three weeks when she came.

 

* * *

 

Bits of dry blood peeked from underneath the metal, evidence that no matter how quiet he was, the Galra before him had not given up yet.

Keethri confessed that he found the prince intriguing. He was said to be an upstart Altean who would readily surrender and abandon his men to save his own life. Despite all the years placed under the supervision of the best tutors, the vices of his mixed blood had finally caught up with him.

He betrayed the Emperor, his own father, usurping his power when their leader was unable to respond to the slight.

He did not respect the Kral Zera.

He was not a true Galra. His only salvation was that he had been born to their powerful ruler. A selfish man, a foolish boy who did not understand their customs.

They could not stress enough the fact he could not be trusted.

Except that it was wrong.

Prince Lotor was not idle. Keethri could see the blackness of his wrists, knew that the tender flesh dented by the massive manacles were signs that the convict was working on a way to escape his handcuffs.

Nor was he a coward. Behind the deceptive mask of calmness, Prince Lotor was a raging sea waiting for the best moment to unleash his might. He did not cower, plead or complain. When Keethri had brought him before the Commander and those who could order his death, he had not looked down but faced them head-on, glaring at them with all he had.

Lotor was not the spineless simpleton that Central was trying to portray.

He did not shy away from death.

And at the end of the day, he was the one betrayed by his allies.

Without knowing it, Keethri was cataloguing every difference.

He seriously hoped that the guys in charge of getting their hands on intel regarding Voltron were more capable than those who collected information about their prince.

He _did_ put a salve under the prince’s cot when the latter was out.

Prince Lotor might be a prisoner but it was still worthy of Keethri’s respect.

 

* * *

 

The other guards would complain about the boring prisoner.

They did not know where to look.

Keethri did not tell them.

 

* * *

 

“Where are you taking him?” Keethri blurted since Prince Lotor was clean and no outing had been scheduled for the next quintant.

“That’s not your business, soldier”, Kridlan growled as he opened the prince’s restraints. The prisoner was forced face down on the bed while the bulky Galra tied his hands behind his back in cuffs, then he was lifted up and pushed forward. He stumbled out, his brows scrunched in irritation and Keethri took an involuntary step toward the other. His fall was stopped by Kridlan tugging hard on his long white hair.

“There was no note about you, sir.”, his ears were acting up under his helmet and his eyes met the prince’s through his visor, both surprised. Keethri cleared his throat and looked up at the other soldier, trying to cover up his mistake.

Kridlan sneered and Keethri felt himself tense, his hand itching to reach out for his hidden blade.

“Making friend with the traitor, I see?”, his icy gaze raked mercilessly over Keethri’s slender figure, assessing the deformity of his size with an odd glint, “Not surprising coming from another half-blood”, he idly commented, his hand firmly on the inmate’s back as he made him walk ahead.

Prince Lotor’s face quickly shifted back to its usual blankness as if the pleased expression on his features never happened. Under normal conditions Keethri would have shut up because messing with those in dark grey and especially Kridlan was never a good idea yet the snub stung and he prickled at the implication, making a spur-of-the-moment decision.

“Move out!”, Almost-a-Lieutenant-but-not-quite-there-yet-Kridlan ordered when Keethri blocked his path because _why the hell not?_

“I don’t think so, sir. You can’t take the prisoner out of his cell without Commander Ladnok’s permission.”

Kridlan snorted, tried to bypass him and failed. The prince was roughly pushed out of the way, crashing into Keethri’s wall – after his countless shifts down there, his back against this wall, it was as good as his. Kridlan stomped over him, Keethri nearly under him even as he refused to look down, his back a straight rod as he bared his teeth.

“I. Said. Move!”

“And I heard you the first time _but_ the fact is I can’t let him go,” he pointed at Lotor’s without letting Kridlan out of his vision.

“Are you really willing to tempt fate, little _Galra_?”

“No authorization, no prisoner”, he gritted his teeth.

“It’s been decided that the prisoner will be questioned. Weren’t you informed, soldier?”, he asked nastily.

No, he had not been. It burnt.

Surely, the aftermath of Haggar’s visit. 

“No authorization, no prisoner”, he stood his ground, damning his own lack of interest in local gossip because there had been no mention of-

His trail of thoughts came to an end as an idea formed in his mind and he wiped away the mean grin creeping up, “But you must be right, sir. I may have missed the note. I’ll com Commander Ladnok and settle my mista-”, the flow of honeyed words was cut off, Kridlan grip on Keethri’s arm preventing him from activating his com, “Sir?”.

The Galra’s glare was as hostile as Keethri’s tone was sweet. When he was young, people would ask him things about his mother and he had learnt to lie out of necessity. He loved her and while _yes, mommy's weird and sometimes she talks to this grown-up who doesn’t like the Emperor_ , he would not let her be hurt.

“Sir? Don’t you-”, he gasped as if realizing something and just to mess with the other’s head, he dug into his feelings and the air between them got tinged with confusion and suspicion, “You said you were sent, right? Commander Ladnok sent you, didn't she?”

A guttural growl was coming from Kridlan. His ears laid flat towards the back of his head and his spine about to break, he refused to say that he had planned to interrogate the Commander’s prisoner without consulting her first, desperately wanting to impress Ladnok. With one last glare in his direction he made up his mind and stormed away.

Finally left alone, Keethri sighed and drop his act, placing a cap on his wayward emotions. He rounded up the Prince, escorting him back to his cell where he unfastened his shackles. The other stretched out his weary arms mindful not to pull a muscle, his eyes never leaving Keethri.

The wrists were swollen and dotted with whitish patches of pus, not the slight grey one would expect from a healing wound.

It had been left untreated.

Prince Lotor was manacled once more – more loosely this time -, Keethri doing nothing to hide his scowl.

 

* * *

 

He could feel the weight of Lotor’s stare on his back as Trekvor replaced him and like every time frustration was about to overwhelm him, he headed straight to the training deck.

He put down his blaster where he could easily see it, stretched and took out his mother’s dagger.

That night, the room was avoided by most of the crew.

 

* * *

 

His helmet was cracked. Nothing big but it was enough to distract him.

“That’s why training with your helmet on is discouraged”, his bunkmate drawled in that lazy voice of his.

Next to him Keethri grimaced and lightly brushed against his face, his fingers stilling when they touched the dark stripes on his cheeks. He put his hands down, not bothering with the brows and the eery eyes.

His face was rarely seen. He did not like it.

A new helmet was requested and he tucked the broken one under his bunk.

(He did not know why he did not throw it away.)

 

* * *

 

The interrogation begun two quintants later.

Updates came in regarding the Emperor. They were to remain on standby until further notice, Zarkon was busy fighting Voltron and Haggar hunting down rebels and among them the Blades of Marmora because they were not a _myth_.

Lotor remained tight-lipped while Keethri did his best not to think about the glowing symbol on his blade.

He also pointedly ignored the resemblance between the Blades’ leader and the man his mother used to speak to when Keethri was young.

 

* * *

 

Okay. He had underestimated Kridlan.

Up till now, Keethri had been allowed to juggle between several duties since Commander Ladnok liked him well enough and frankly did not care as long as the tasks were fulfilled.

It was great. It killed time.

Except that Almost-a-Lieutenant-but-too-much-of-a-git-to-actually-be-promoted-Kridlan held a grudge against him and “I saw how you like it down there so you’ve been assigned to guard duty for the rest of the mission”. 

The jackass certainly had the power to ruin one’s career regardless of the fact that it was already a dead end.

 

* * *

 

Axca. Zethrid. Ezor.

Keethri had seen them once when Haggar stopped over. Apparently, betraying your leader was commendable nowadays.

He had been in the middle of his lunch when they entered the canteen and disrupted the quiet routine of Commander Ladnok’s crew. From his spot, he had observed them, absently listening in as Aïkzel’s babbled on about their (alleged) backstories.

His helmet had been on the bench, the cold metal a reassuring feeling against his leg.

Strong. Competent. Proud.

Successful. Uncompromising.

Different.

Keethri had not known that half-bloods – those as obvious as the Generals and himself - could thrive in the Empire.

Traitors.

Soldiers who knew nothing about honour.

Keethri would rather be a simple cadet for ever than be like them.

Ezor had noticed him staring and pointed him to her friends. Zethrid’s booming laughter had echoed loudly off the metal walls as well as her following statement regarding “the baby-faced trainee too in awe of them”.

His eyebrows had gone so far up that Draal had hissed in disgust next to him. He had tuned her out – _“you’re not supposed to do_ that _with your fur!” –_ and merely looked away.

No, Keethri did not envy them.

 

* * *

 

The first time they talked had been retrospectively quite anticlimactic.

For so many vargas, silence had been the only thing bringing them together and the guard had intended to keep it at that. There was no need for contact whatsoever.

(It was a lie, Keethri had spent many nights imagining it.)

(Usually, it started with something important, cryptic, short _and_ impressive.)

It happened the fourth time Prince Lotor was brought back to his cell, black and blue after another interrogation session. Kridlan had been the one escorting Lotor, his smile smug and full of sharp teeth as a bruise blossomed on the latter’s cheek.

None of that sat well with Keethri.  

Galra were born to fight not beat up unarmed prisoners. It was not right.

He could not condone it.

Therefore, it was not that surprising when he entered the cell twenty doboshes before the end of his shift. He was confident that no one would catch him red-handed, Aïkzel rarely ever on time.

If he had been puzzled, Lotor did not show it even when the shackles fell on the ground and Keethri had retrieved the balm from where he had put it under the cot.

Now both sitting on the same dirty floor and the wounds dutifully washed clean, he was applying the odourless salve on Lotor’s skin, rubbing gently to make sure it would heal. His arms were already lathered up with the dark substance, the vivid colour dulling as it came into effect.

The weapon was out of Lotor’s reach but he did not seem to mind, his entire focus on Keethri’s face – or more precisely his helmet.

“You’re different.”

He kept on taping Lotor’s skin with a piece of fabric before turning his attention to his cheek even as he snorted because he could not deny that. Not many guards would get caught sitting with the Empire’s most wanted traitor.

“It is because you are a half-blood.”, and Keethri's hand stilled inches away from the prince’s face.

There was no reason behind the approval permeating the air. It was not something someone should be proud of.

He did the logic thing to do.

“And you’re stupid”, he drawled, smearing carelessly what was left of the salve on Lotor’s cheek who winced.

He went back to his post with no other word, Aïkzel showing up five minutes later.

At least, he was not wrong when he said it would be short.

 

* * *

 

They settled down in a routine after that, Keethri watching Lotor and Lotor doing the same. Some days, they were interrupted by another Galra who would take the prince away and Keethri would treat the scarring the best he could do without alerting others.

(Who would be more suspicious than the half-blood guard?)

Lotor was more amenable about using the ointment now that he knew who it belonged to. He nonetheless waited for him before using it the time Keethri had been called away.

Keethri guessed he missed gentle touches and company.

(Sometimes he thought about what Lotor could do to him if he decided to denounce him.)

(He quashed those thoughts. Perhaps Lotor was not the only one looking for company.)

They met six weeks ago.

They did not talk.


	2. Leave me to dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had never been a dream. It had been a nightmare all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops? I lied? Sorry for the delay! Btw, that tag about pining Lotor? Another lie. Wait Chapter 3 for that!  
> [I'm here if you have questions :)](http://alcath-era.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for those who reviewed, left kudos and so on! I live for feedback!  
> NOW _standing ovation_ for Lili who was willing to edit my work? Like, giiiirl, you're way too nice and look at this; look at this work that has been beta-ed. So many feels, I, just, can't

 

They traded stories; nothing too personal, but they would speak about the places they had seen.

Lotor had been on a lot of planets.

Keethri was slightly jealous.

 

* * *

 

The universe was far more interesting than he thought; Keethri did not know half the species Lotor mentioned, did not know that a planet could have more than one sun, did not know there were so many different customs out there.

(In Ciyhiri, violence was frowned upon. Coming to terms with such an idea was still difficult for Keethri.)

Lotor knew a lot of things.

It was fascinating.

(It was the first time Keethri learnt for the sake of it; it was as weird as it was exhilarating.)

 

* * *

 

Nonetheless, he was aware that he should not trust everything Lotor said. Those planets, those peoples… It could not be possible.

(Kindness could not be given so freely.)

 

* * *

 

He wished he had been beside Lotor when he visited Wuplienia. Maybe one day-

No, that was preposterous.

Not to mention traitorous, he rolled his eyes skywards.

 

* * *

 

Lotor yearned for a bygone era when the Galra had worked alongside Alteans, and when the Empire was not feared, but respected.

A time when instead of being someone’s tyrants, they were their friends.

“Compassionate” was the word Lotor used to describe who they used to be.

“My research has led me to believe Galra used to be quite empathetic towards those around them. Something changed with the war and I can only infer that my father is the one at fault,” he explained as Keethri weighed up what had been said.

 

* * *

 

Keethri wanted nothing. As a Galra soldier, he only wanted what his Empire wanted from him.

Free will was irrelevant.

 

* * *

 

Agriculture was fascinating.

 

* * *

 

Unlike Lotor and his love for history, Keethri relished sparing. The thrill of the fight stirred up the primal part of him; the feeling of satisfaction from pushing past his own limits, the exhilaration of exploiting his opponent’s weaknesses and using them against the other - they all accounted to the adrenaline-induced high he ran on.

More than that, he lived for flying.

Lately, he was not allowed to do either of them.

 

* * *

 

Zarkon set a date for Lotor’s trial after _finally_ remembering he had a rebel son.

Keethri was unprepared for the unexpected fear washing over him in waves from the news. For only the fourth time in his life, he felt horror grip his body.

(The first time had been when he realized his mother was far more critical of the regime than she should be; the second when he had been visited in his mother’s quarters by the lady living next door who had promptly asked him about his opinion of his mother; the third when he had been deemed old enough to survive on his own and then his mother was sent away.)

He dreaded what would happen to the prince.

Unfortunately for Commander Ladnok, the trial was postponed. Keethri sighed heavily with relief.

Voltron had its benefits, who would have guessed?

 

* * *

 

The arrangement changed after that, the hushed voices and whisper of conversation no longer confined to the short time between Lotor’s return from interrogation and the end of Keethri’s guard duty.

For the most part, this sector of the cells was left alone as only high-ranking officers were allowed to speak with the prisoner. It was easy to hear the steps getting closer and closer, easy to pretend as if the two did not spend the last vargas speaking, easy to pretend that Keethri’s blatant disregard for the rules would not end badly.

Something curdle in Keethri’s stomach, chilling him to the core.

Fear made people make stupid decisions.

Granted, their bond only existed in this part of the ship, and Keethri made sure to prepared himself to crush it at the slightest hint of suspicion from Ladnok. Nevertheless, for the time being, and as long as people remained unaware, Keethri would seize the opportunity to learn more about the universe.

He foolishly assumed this tranquil moment, a jarring note in his life, would last forever.   

 

* * *

 

Keethri wanted to dream.

 

* * *

 

Lotor _did_ plan to kill his father. It was enlightening.

And stupid.

 

* * *

 

Keethri liked fighting. Killing- not so much.

 

* * *

 

“Narti,” Lotor breathed before clamming up when Keethri looked at him, the scent of puzzlement evident in the air of the small room.

 

* * *

 

Lotor was the one who broke the pattern. Down there in the prison, with no one to keep Lotor and Keethri in check, forgetting who they were – who _Keethri_ was – was child’s play. He did not ignore his duty altogether, but his mind would wander off more and more often into those unknown places Lotor had crafted from his memories. Imagining what could have happened in another universe and pondering over _what ifs_ was easy, as effortless as dreaming of visiting those people by Lotor’s side.

As such, he was caught off guard when Lotor shuffled closer, his voice breaking their quiet tranquillity.

“Help me escape, and I will show it to you.” Their knees were touching, and Keith’s warmth was now Lotor’s, the pressure ever so gentle as his breathing stuttered in his chest.

And, really, Keethri should have expected this. He _had_ known that Lotor was a cunning goupil, and that like the animal he would find a loophole, exploit the weakest link in the chain.

Had he been in the same situation, Keethri would have done the same. He should not be hurting.

He was, though.

He left without answering.

 

* * *

 

That bond between them had been doomed from the start. An absurd mistake he should have nipped in the bud.

 

* * *

 

He could-

 

* * *

 

That night, Draal asked him if he wanted to share her nest. The other cadets could certainly taste his distress - his sense of disappointment and uneasiness palpable around him.

Soldiers were usually mocked for losing their control in such a way, yet at that instant - without any high-ranking officers to give them reason and protect them - nobody dared to try his wrath.

Keith would not have survived in that army as a half-blood if he did not learn how to instil fear in the others.

Draal was the only one brave enough to address the problem. She was also the only one with enough empathy to venture out and provide comfort.

He refused, he-

Lotor-

He _couldn’t_.

His suit clung to his frame and his hands were clammy as his skin prickled with shame.

 

* * *

  
Keethri was not a traitor.

 

* * *

 

Lotor grasped his hand, “It does not matter.”

(Liar.)

He did not apologize. He did not have to.

Keethri understood why Lotor had asked such a thing but he _couldn’t_. His hands were tied.

(No, they were not. His own wrists were free of any restraints or bruise, the tender flesh a light purple gleam in the light.)

With a twinge in his heart, Keethri squeezed Lotor’s hand and managed a shaky smile, “My mother’s name is Krolia.”

It was a poor form of an apology. Still, Keethri had nothing else to give.

 

* * *

 

Lotor was a mass of bruises.

His ears moved backwards and he bared his teeth, his heart in his throat as Kridlan rounded the corner, a twisted smile on his face as he pulled an unsteady Lotor behind him, the latter’s legs about to give out under himself.

The sessions were useless, and Kridlan himself was aware of the fact. Even so, it did not stop him- instead, it worked only as encouragement for the Galra.

At this point, Keethri doubted there was anything to tell. It was no secret that the prince had favoured avoiding Voltron since his interests laid elsewhere. The Empire just did not care.

It was torture for torture’s sake.

Later, when Lotor was left alone and Keethri laid flat on his back with his bunkmate snoring above him, the half-blood soldier would try to regain control of his senses and stop his heaving stomach, his hand covering his mouth.

As for now, he glared at Kridlan’s back which was already sauntering away while Keethri moved Lotor back into his cell. There, he helped him sit down before lightly running a finger over the marks on his jaw. Lotor winced as he did so and tilted his head to one side, displaying the merciless plethora of colours on his skin. He looked filthy with his lips cracked, the severe gash on his nose and his suit even more ruined than before, the top ripped with stains splotched all over the rest of his clothing.

Their safe haven was never meant to be and the thing between them was coming to an end.

Keethri slowly knelt down beside his friend’s battered body and got to work.

 

* * *

 

Bitterness permeated the air.

Commander Trugg was going to pay them a visit.

It had never been a dream. It had been a nightmare all along.

 

* * *

 

Let him dream!

 

* * *

 

He let Lotor see his face.

The open wonder painted all over Lotor’s expression was staggering to say the least.

Dark blotches broke out on his cheeks, his eyes darting wildly from Lotor to the wall as he tried to conceal his blush behind a curtain of black locks.

Even now, on the verge of falling asleep, Keethri felt his cheeks burn at the mere thought of Lotor’s scent.

 

* * *

 

Voltron and the rebels were regrouping.

It was now only a matter of time.

 

* * *

 

Lotor killed Narti.

It was a mistake.

Narti might have been Haggar’s spy but she had been his friend too.

Guilt ate him away.

 

* * *

 

A blow left a greyish mark down one side of Lotor’s face.

 

* * *

 

Keethri would cherish the time spent with Lotor; those fleeting moments for the rest of his life, remembering that he had once known what it felt like to be content – the closest thing to happiness he would likely ever experience.

A painful, short-lived illusion that was harming him more than he should have let happen.

It was worth it, however.

 

* * *

 

There was yet another person Lotor would do anything to see dead.

Haggar lived on borrowed time.

 

* * *

 

“I’m fine,” his smile was strained, his teeth stained with purple blood as he pushed Keethri’s trembling hand away and stiffly moved to the other side of the cot.

Forget about Haggar and Zarkon, it was Lotor who was going to die here.

Maybe if he were- No. Just no.

Keethri’s eyes stung.

 

* * *

 

His generals were not to blame. Lotor had been so obsessed with his self-imposed mission that he had forgotten the bigger picture.

In a way, Lotor deserved what happened to him. Or so he himself said.

 

* * *

 

Every confession sounded more and more like the testament of a dying man.

 

* * *

 

Keethri needed-

_No!_

 

* * *

 

Keethri woke up, drenched in sweat and desperately gulping for air as terror seized him. The room smelled of perspiration and panic, irritating his already frayed senses, a burning sensation against his sensitive skin.

He quickly looked around him to find something, anything that would anchor him and tuned in to his roommate’s sleeping respiration.

Breathe in, breath out, in, out, in, out.

He let himself be lulled by the calming song of life.

 

* * *

 

He was losing Lotor.

 

* * *

 

His empire was flawed.

But no government was perfect.

 

* * *

 

He would not desert.

He would not.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry, I can’t.”

There was no mistaking the choked whine in his voice.

Lotor shook his head, his whole face bruised and a bitter smile teasing his lips.

His eyes still shone with fondness.

 

* * *

 

Commander Trugg’s fleet was abnormally well supplied. The fact that her main warship was being trailed by a multitude of fleets was concerning, as Galra commanders were not often seen with so many weapons under their control.

Furthermore, her soldiers were notorious for their rashness, making them a force to be reckoned with. They were considered by the other fleets to be cruel beasts living on the blood shed by their enemies. The wary soldiers Keethri encountered were a jarring note in Trugg’s sheet music.

It was unusual, and Keethri did not like it.

The staging of Trugg’s power, her troops’ changes, the sheer amount of armed Galrans docking at their stations, all of which left Keethri suspicious of what was to come. Concern and worry gripped Keethri, threatening to overwhelm him as he fought against every instinct yelling at him to immediately leave the ship and confirm Lotor was safe.

According to Brov, Commander Ladnok herself did not know what was happening – which explained why she had been seen pulling at her hair in frustration on several instances.

The only one unbothered by the events was Trugg who, unlike her soldiers’ behavioural change, remained true to herself and did not miss any occasion to taunt Keethri’s commander. If Keethri had to witness one more eulogy to Zarkon and his generous gift – a brand new fighter jet Keethri dreamed he could pilot with a cloak reminiscent of the notorious Green Lion – he was going to do something he would regret.

Ironically, she revealed her true intentions during one of those speeches. Trugg had demanded to see how well Ladnok’s half-blood pet would fare against her champion and Keethri was in the middle of a fight in the training deck when he understood the true reason behind her visit.

Keethri recoiled in shock, and it took all his concentration to stop his emotions from leaking out. His opponent, Pierk, took advantage of his error and a punch connected with Keethri’s jaw, sending his head back. Before he had time to recover, Pierk quickly striked, bringing his boot up and into Keethri’s side. Wind wiped out of him, Keethri staggered back from the full force of Pierk’s kick.

Spitting out blood, he transformed his emotions into cold aggression, turning his head just in time to see Pierk rearing back with another strike.

Keethri ducked, blocking Pierk’s next blow then pulled back. He leaned back on one leg, spun around and kicked out at Pierk’s stomach, forcing out of him a stunned choked breath. Seizing the moment, Keethri leaped, wrapping his legs around the other’s neck and choking him.

As expected, Trugg’s soldier grasped at Keethri’s knees and tried to slam him into the ground head first. Keethri shifted all his weight forward, unbalancing Pierk and plummeting down on top of each other. Shaking off the other’s hands, Keethri rolled away before dashing back on top of Pierk, a knee pressed up against his back and his arms trapped under their conjoint weight. One of his hands viciously twisted Pierk’s fur, pulling his head back as his other hand pressed against the exposed flesh of the  throat, his claws already drawing blood.

“Yield,” he ordered, mercifully.

Trugg’s champion jerked once, twice, then stilled, aware that throwing Keethri off would only have his throat slit. Pierk’s muscles went completely lax under Keethri, fully surrendering. Nevertheless, he stayed put, waiting for Commander Ladnok to dismiss him.

Ladnok paused her jibe at Trugg to nod in his direction as he stood up, Pierk doing the same after him, his piercing eyes following as Keethri strode towards the lift, his blaster and knife once more secured at his waist.

He was determined to make the most of the remaining time he had left with Lotor.

After all, Trugg had been sent by Zarkon to bring the prince back to Central.

 

* * *

 

His throat felt raw and he found his breath caught in it more and more frequently.

Keethri was drowning, stifled by the suffocating horror of what was bound to happen.

 

* * *

 

Keethri’s bunkmate was woken up by his cries and proceeded to panic, too startled by the liquid falling down Keethri’ eyes to understand the meaning behind his tears.

Lotor was the only one who took care of him and soothed away the pain.

The following day, soldiers kept him at bay.

That was fine. He was used to being the odd one out.  

 

* * *

  
When he had been a kit, his mother had been his entire world; he had loved her with all his might; loved her enough to lie to the Empire, enough to join Zarkon’s army when people started wondering about young _Keith_ ’s father and why Krolia insisted upon keeping him instead of making him enroll.

Krolia was not well-liked per se but she was an efficient, unyielding warrior who had the misfortune of being born with a flawed ancestry. Just like Commander Ladnok, she had made up for her genetic defects and knew not to mingle with inferior species.

In a way, she stood for the redemption of those who had shamed Zarkon’s Empire. Little by little - mixed-blood after mixed-blood - the sins of her lineage had been washed away and there she was, at the end of the process.

Keith was not supposed to happen.

So he left and became Keethri. It was not the name his mother gave him but it sounded more Galran and that was what people wanted to hear.

Moreover, with him gone, people soon lost interest in the runt’s father and stopped pestering Krolia about her boy. He was no longer their problems.

(He never was.)

He still saw his mother so it was not that bad at first. Next, she was sent away and he was left alone.

The Empire stole his mother from him. The child he had been had hated them for that.

(He still did.)

They were going to do the same thing with Lotor.

Keith had been a soft child, dreaming about what could never have happened; about what he could never have had. Keethri was the opposite.

However, for the first time in his life as Keethri, he longed for something.

And what he so dearly desired went against the Empire.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to review! Since English isn't my 1st language I'd like to know what needs to be improved :)
> 
> [Btw, I'm a chatterbox so come say hi!](http://alcath-era.tumblr.com/) (I'd like to hear about your impression of Keethri xD)
> 
> [Lili](http://yourlilimaxilove.tumblr.com/) can be found here. Thanks YOU, once more btw.
> 
> So Keitor month is long gone and??? this fic isn't over? My bad but life is haaaaard.  
> Chapter 2 was supposed to stand for Past/Future+ Trust but I decided to cut it into 2 parts since it was way too long. So, here we have the "Past" part of the prompt. Sorry not sorry.  
> Regarding Chapter 3... ahah. It's already written, it "just" needs to be edited. Now I'd like to post it by the end of June but as already said: liiiiiiife.  
>    
>  **General timeline:**  
>  Week 0 : They meet.  
> Week 1-2: The meeting. Keith gives the salve regardless.  
> Week 3: Haggar happens. Keith meets the Generals.  
> Week 4: Start of interrogation.  
> Week 6: The final scene of Chap1  
> Chapter 2 starts at Week 9.  
> Week 10: Zarkon asks for Lotor except not. Lotor asks Keith to let him go.  
> Week 12-13: Commander Trugg arrives.  
> Chapter 3 starts at Week 14-15.


	3. The more I stray, the less I fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking Keethri’s lack of response as his cue, Pierk looked towards the fighter jet and cleared his throat obnoxiously. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, you know that, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first wrote this, I thought about making a sequel of sort focusing on Keith and Lotor's adventures and their meeting with the BOM, Voltron and so on. Tell me if you'd be interesting in reading it! 
> 
> Lily beta-read the major part of this chapter! Thank you so much!

If-

“Keethri isn’t my name.”

 

* * *

 

Keethri would not betray his people.

The Galras already believed half-bloods to be a bunch of useless upstarts waiting for the moment to commit treason.

He would prove them wrong.

 

* * *

 

Lotor’s arms were splotched with dirt and blood.

 

* * *

 

Maybe Galras were not wrong thinking that. Maybe half-bloods _were_ doomed to become turncoats.

 

* * *

 

Keethri was no traitor!

 

* * *

 

But perhaps _Keith_ was. 

 

* * *

 

If it meant… Lotor would see another day.

 

* * *

 

Commander Trugg’s arrival one week before had triggered some kind of frenzy within Kridlan; her bloodthirst spurring him to try even harder to get _something_ out of Lotor.

“My father will surely reward his eagerness. He reminds me of the Chukulak who sacrifice their children to please their Goddess.” the former heir sneered; but Keethri could not bring himself to laugh.

Not when Lotor’s arm would not move, hanging limply at his side.

 

* * *

 

Keethri met Lotor nearly four months ago.

Keethri stole a chest-plate from the training deck’s supply closet. The galra placed in charge should have known better than to leave it unsupervised.

Lotor would live. Keethr- _Keith_ would get him out.

 

* * *

 

Almost-an-Lieutenant-but-full-time-jackass-Kridlan’s position had some benefits that soldiers like Keethri could only dream of.

One of the perks was that he was given permission to the warship whenever he pleased by entering some secret codes into his fighter jet.

Stealing Kridlan’s codes had been easier than initially expected.

Brov chuckled near Keethri and asked him the reason behind his smugness. Keethri only shrugged and changed the subject since he knew Brov’s passion for engineering was famous.

“What can you tell me about Commander Trugg’s new fighter jet? The one docked in hangar three.”

And if he were to steer the conversation towards its flaws, how to hypothetically override its commands and set the autopilot, well, nobody told him off.

 

* * *

 

He was caught timing Trugg’s soldiers’ passages through hangar three.

He was slipping through the shadows of the hangar, hidden behind boxes when his arm was grabbed and he was forcibly turned around, his eyes meeting Pierk’s purple chest-plate.

“Slow down there, hotshot. Whatcha standing here for?” Trugg’s champion smirked down at Keethri with his ears perked slightly forwards and - much to Keethri’s relief - playfulness colouring his scent.

Now that they were not sparring, Keethri noticed how heavily armed the soldier usually was; from the blaster to the hidden knives and the oddly familiar dagger tightly strapped around his leg.

Taking Keethri’s lack of response as his cue, Pierk looked towards the fighter jet and cleared his throat obnoxiously. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, you know that, right?”

His brows furrowed and Keethri felt his blood freeze. Pierk stared at him, then, shaking his head in disbelief, he indicated for Keethri not to worry.

“You’re kinda obsessed with it, aren’t you? I heard you asking questions to that guard.”

“Why are you talking to me?” He tugged at his own arm and Pierk released it with a frown.

“’Cuz I wanna? You’re strong.” He shrugged as if that explained everything.

“Thanks, you too.”

Keethri stepped back and Pierk followed him despite his own clipped tone. “You’re gonna stand here all day long? You can come closer, you know?”

“Actually, I’m not suppos-”

“Psssh, don’t listen to those crybabies! You beat me, you can do whatever you want! Trugg’s having my ass because of that!” He pointedly narrowed his eyes. “What about a tour? Don’t give me that look. I know it’s your ship but we changed some things. Did you know there was a hole in the vents?”

Note to himself: look for another way to sneak in.

Pierk motioned for Keethri to follow him and they made their way over the jet.

Well. It could’ve turned out worse.

 

* * *

 

With so many soldiers aboard, one would think that sneaking around would be extremely difficult – the instance with Pierk not counting.

What Zarkon failed to take into account was the legendary animosity between Commander Ladnok and Trugg. As such, what should have been a formidable outpost turned into a kindergarten playground. Granted, there were still a plethora of skilled warriors, but even so, Ladnok and Trugg’s feud prevented any cooperation and in such their divisions were weakened.

As things were, the entire fleet was unstable and on the verge of imploding. It was not rare to see fights breaking out in the middle of corridors; under normal circumstances Commander Ladnok would have already intervened, however, Trugg brought out the worst and petty part of her.

The Empire had sunk lower than Keethri had previously thought if their commanders were now keeping tabs of the brawls - their way to determine who had to best fleet and who was, by extension, the best commander - instead of punishing the restless soldiers. The galra were not meant to stay idle and all this pent-up energy was driving them crazy.

To sum everything up, the outpost was crippled by disorganization and unclear power distribution between Commander Ladnok and Commander Trugg.

Patrolling sentries no longer cared when people went in or out - assuming without a second glance they were part of the other commander’s crew – and with so many people in full armour in one place, the images from the surveillance cameras were rendered next to useless.

Keethri kept a low profile, knowing that the smallest mistake could spark a bloodbath.

Keith took the opportunity that came with all the chaos to disrupt the patrol schedules and program Trugg’s beloved fighter jet to fly to the Ne’xus star thirty hours later.

 

* * *

 

Lotor’s interrogation session had been cut short. For a change, Kridlan didn’t mock Keethri and literally threw Lotor at Keith with the injunction to lock the traitor up before skipping down the corridor. His hope of being promoted so blatant that Keith snorted in derision as Kridlan left.

While bringing back Trugg’s jet would undoubtedly be rewarded, it just simply would never happen with the coordinates he set.

Keethri’s diversion was working and for the next dobashes the fleet’s attention would be too focused on the jet to be concerned about Lotor.

In his hurry to get away, almost-a-Lieutenant-but-soon-to-be-demoted-Kridlan didn’t notice Keethri’s hidden backpack nor Lotor’s puzzled expression when Keethri did not move to follow his given orders.

Keith’s smile was small and sheepish as he handed the other his old helmet and chaste-plate in order to not stand out too much on the ship.

Trainees were often seen in the attire Lotor was currently adorning after training. Keethri watched the other critically; it’d do for now, he decided as Lotor nodded in his direction, waiting for him to voice his plan.

There would be no coming back.

They hurried away in the opposite direction than the one taken by Kridlan. Now, they had a hangar to visit and a jet to steal.

A small part in him cheered at the prospect.

 

* * *

 

“You’re not serious, are you?”

The fighter jet was quite small, obviously designed for only one person. It would be a tight fit for the both of them, but its size was a pro for those who wanted to remain off the radar screen for as long as possible. The curved wings, weighted nose and specially folded wing tips would not only increase lift but also reduce drag.

It was extremely manoeuvrable _and_ very fast.

It was perfect.

At the moment, it served as a hiding spot; the wings providing enough shadows to shield the two from the few mechanics still in Hangar one. His diversion had done its work and the traffic had dwindled to a trickle, most soldiers moving to Hangar three.

“Keethri!”

“Shut up and trust me.” He grumbled, keeping an eye on the crewmembers still milling around. Keith took off his helmet to see more clearly.

“They will notice us before we take off!” Lotor hissed lowly, his breath tickling Keith’s ear. His hard chest-plate pushed against Keith and the cold metal dug into the flesh of the smaller Galra. Keith elbowed him but Lotor did not budge, if anything he leaned further onto Keith’s back, looking in the same direction, their body pressed close together.  

“It’ll be fine. It’s Kridlan’s, so people are used to it.” Keith looked over his shoulder and proceeded to add when Lotor kept frowning at him, “The guy leaves as he wants. He doesn’t like being stuck in the same place too long, so he just takes his jet whenever he can. It also means the fuel tanks are always full.”

Keith shuffled closer to the cockpit, and as the light turned purple, the door slid open and he jammed his pack and helmet into the small compartment at his right.

“People don’t care, you know? I’ve got the codes so they won’t think something is off until it’s too late.”

“Still, we should find another ship. That one is too showy! We’re supposed to lay low, not operating on the hope that people will not see! Lieutenant Kridlan will kn-”

“Almost-an-Lieutenant-Kridlan.” He cut Lotor off distractedly, not really listening. “We’ve got to go!”

The other Galra had not noticed them yet, but for how long?

He was about to leap onto the jet when Lotor’s touch stopped him, the heat seeping through their clothes startling him. Keith gave him his full attention as Lotor spoke with urgency, his vizor raised and his left arm in a makeshift sling. “Keethri! Your plan is based purely on assumptions! This is _not_ a joke!” He said, a wild look in his eyes and stressing the negation.

“I _know_ !”, he whispered forcefully and Lotor had no right to look at him like that - as if he were a green recruit fresh from Central - not when Keith was about to lose everything for him. “You’re the one not listening! People. _Do. Not. Care_ .” He looked into his eyes to emphasize his point. “If _this_ jet is missing, no one will bring up the subject to an Officer. Kridlan-” Lotor flinched and Keith realized belatedly that they were about to steal from the person who had spent the last weeks torturing Lotor. “ - Kridlan isn’t very popular and people’d rather mind their own business than have something to do with him. I bet they’ll think he decided to chase after Trugg’s jet!”, he said more softly.

His prince – and that was what Lotor was, _his_ prince – looked undecided and it hurt to see his skills so obviously disparaged now that they were out of their cell. Lotor had confided in Keethri when death loomed over their heads and now that his world was no longer limited to his shackles, Lotor needed to believe in him once more. He had to have enough faith in Keith to confide his life and future to him.

With both hands, he took Lotor’s unhurt hand and cradled it protectively to his chest. “Trust me.” The ‘ _please’_ was left unsaid.

Lotor had to trust him, otherwise all the tales, all this time spent together would be meaningless.

Because Keith had trusted him since the very beginning when he was still Keethri and Lotor a prisoner among others. He had trusted him not to tell other guards about the half-blood’s treacherous behaviour; had trusted him not to use his mistakes as a leverage.

True, Keith had been the one digging his own grave by breaching the code, but Lotor was the one who could have dragged him down and make him fall to his death, was the one who could have ended Keethri's life with one sentence whispered into the wrong ear. Even here, as Lotor stared at him with something indescribable in the eyes, he was the one with enough power to bury Keith.  

And like it never happened, Lotor’s cold behaviour thawed out, his lips quirked up as he laced their fingers together and squeezed. Keith’s ears flickered forward, confident he made the right decision as warmth flew through his body and he huffed at Lotor’s amusement.

“So, how did you get his codes?” He asked, his eyebrows doing the same thing that Keith had to repress in order to truly become Keethri. “I didn’t get the impression that he would willingly give anything to you.”

Keith rolled his eyes, helping Lotor get hauled up into the jet and followed suit, wriggling his way onto Lotor’s lap. The door slid shut just before a mechanic rounded the corner and saw them, the reflective black glass shielding them.

“I told you,” his smirk could be heard. “Everybody hates him.”

He felt bad to leave Draal; especially after Keith had mislead and convinced her to trick Kridlan. Fortunately, he would not be on hand when she decided she wanted revenge.

“Nobody will catch us!” Keith promised as Lotor held his waist tight.

And for once, the universe listened to him.

 

* * *

 

It could not be as simple as that. After spending so many phoebes running away from the Empire or locked up, being free was intoxicating.

It should not be that easy.

Maybe life had eventually decided to smile at him?

Or, he watched as Keith dipped his toes into the river they landed nearby, utter delight colouring his aura and his longer hair more beautiful than ever, perhaps this gift was not addressed to him.

Lotor sat down on the edge of the bank as Keith offered him a small smile, his cheeks a lovely purple. The hem of Lotor’s trousers darkened at the contact with the orange coloured water, but it was worth it. The prince’s mouth twitched and flashed his teeth.

“Have you been here before?” The younger galra poked at his left arm and Lotor chuckled fondly. It had taken some time but it was finally perfectly healed - which did not prevent his companion from fussing about it. It was becoming a ritual of sort; Keith probing the limb and Lotor thoughtfully indulging him.

“I have not,” he smirked as his hand caught Keith’s, weaving their fingers together and bringing them down on the free space between their legs. He carried on, not caring about the grumbles coming from the other, “Xesnaynides is not part of Zarkon’s empire, and even though I was not supposed to be anywhere near him, he did not want me too far away. Too hard to control.”

Keith merely hummed, his legs gliding through the clear water effortlessly as his scent was deliberately amplified, peacefulness soon joined by fondness, embracing Lotor like a warm cloak. In tandem, Lotor’s sharpened, trust and affection pervading the air.

Keith trilled next to him.

“It’s true that we’re quite a long way from the borders. The galra are likely still looking for us in the Tronia OZFI system.” He snickered and Lotor shifted a bit to see him more clearly. He paused then asserted, “But, I like it here.”

It was a beautiful day with the breeze of the wind blowing softly by their ears, weaving its gentle fingers through the flora. Time seemed to have stopped, the impression only disrupted by the off-white sky and its blue clouds lazily floating by. It was quiet here, untouched by the Galra’s brutality.

Like an oasis of serenity amidst the crumbling universe, Lotor thought his eyes never leaving Keith’s profile.

Keith’s shoulder bumped lightly into his. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

And who was he to say no?

Keith – at the time Keethri – had saved him. From the beginning, when Lotor was defenceless and did not know what to do with himself, to the countless hours when Keith would attend to his wounds.

Keethri had never judged him for betraying the Empire.

(It was not true. Keith _did_ judge him- or more precisely, the means of which Lotor had used and whom he had decided to trust. Keith never said such things outright, yet Lotor knew he frowned upon what had happened with the prince’s former team.)

And most importantly, when Lotor had been caught up in his worries, the other had saved him like the glimmer of hope he was. Even when Lotor had doubted him, Keith had remained undeterred, renouncing his position as a soldier, shedding the stability of being part of the Empire and losing everything he ever had had to help a man who was almost a stranger.

Lotor had nothing to offer him except the name of fugitive and the scorn of his home.

The prince did not care what had happened with his generals (untrue). Nevertheless, he was determined to keep Keith by his side as long as the smaller Galra wished so.

He would not commit the same mistake twice.

And for that, he needed allies. Zarkon could not be allowed to live any longer. Haggar either.

His original motivation had somewhat changed. Obviously, the Universe’s safety still mattered – he was a diplomat at heart - however where his drive had been born from the selfish desires of a neglected boy, it was now replaced by the strong urge to keep Keith out of harm way, by the deep compulsion to show him and the rest of the world that Lotor could, _would_ make him happy and safe and warm and just everything Keith ever wanted.

A frustrated whine brought him back in time to see Keith waving his free hand under his nose, his eyes laughing despite his slightly quizzical expression. His cheeks burning, Lotor coughed in his fist and tightened the shields around his feelings, aware that his thoughts had imbued their surroundings. His left hand was squeezed and Keith closed the distance between them, leaving no space between their thighs and arms.

“I was thinking that…,” he looked down into Keith’s pretty eyes, their breaths mingling, “What do you think of Voltron?”

“To team up with, you mean?”, he wrinkled his nose and turned his head, eyes musing on the scenery. He shrugged, “I guess they’re alright? They managed to gather several cells of rebels and create a strong ground for their resistance. Their tactics suck, though. Their plans are simplistic at best and superficial the rest of the time.”

He frowned a little and his eyes were unfocused, his thumb idly stroking Lotor’s skin, “They… They must be strong. Plus, they’re fighting Zarkon so we’re already allied. In a way. Without them knowing…,” he trailed off coming back to his senses, “That’s not a “bad” good idea, is it?” he glanced at Lotor under his eyelashes.

“No, that one is a good good idea,” the prince-turned-runaway snorted. “Shall we go?”

“I...guess?”

It would have been funny if it had not been so out of character. Hot-headed as he was, Keith did things on the spur of the moment and winged it like a pro. Dilly-dallying was unlike him, opportunities were seized and that was it. The hesitant look on Keith’s face concerned him.

“Are you okay? We are not compelled if you do not want.”

(Actually, they were. They _had to_ work jointly with them.)

“No!”, he said roughly, scrambling to his feet with an upset face and Lotor followed, his hand tightening around Keith’s when the latter tried to withdraw. Ever so gently, the prince reached out with his other hand, enfolding Keith’s remaining one in it. Then he brought their hands to his chest, cradling them like a reverse image of their escape.

Just like last time, one of them was asking to be trusted.

“Keith?”

He wanted nothing more than smooth away the stressed lines. Keith sensed it and his face relaxed as his ears swiveled lightly to the side before facing forwards.

“It’s just… There’s-”, he stepped closer, the top of his chest almost touching their hands. “The rebels.”

He stopped there, his gaze fixed on Lotor's left shoulder then eyes and back to his shoulder. His face went a deep purple and the former heir could not help but grin.

“Yes?”

“I must meet them. They called themselves the Blades of Marmora.”

“That is all?”, he asked with one of his eyebrows raised as Keith flushed even more.

“It’s just- They're  _skilled_. Finding them may be harder than going directly to Voltron but they're  _Galra_ and… yeah, I want to see them."

“Oh?”, his laughter was evident in his voice because was Keith _fangirling_?

“Not like _that_!”, he huffed and tugged on his hands but quickly gave up since Lotor was not ready to let him go, “Reaching them first might be a good idea. They’re Galra, they've already worked with the paladins  _and_ they're trusted by the Alteans - unlike us. It may be prudent to have them on our sides before barging into that space castle.”

“Especially with me being Zarkon’s son”, he agreed.

“Yeah, that too. And I may know them. In a way.”

Without missing a beat, Lotor fluttered his eyelashes. “Without them knowing?”

Keith really laughed this time, a booming sound that caused something to twist in Lotor’s stomach. He was shoved away, instantly mourning the loss of joint warmth as his hands grew cold. He tucked them in the pockets of his jacket, a red one that was more Keith’s than his considering how many times he found the other wearing it.

They made their way to their jet, their arms brushing.

“Exactly. My mother may be one of their agents and I kind of met their leader once or twice. “Uncle Kolivan””, he snorted and the idea was not that far-fetched from Lotor’s point of view.

Krolia would have to be extraordinaire to bring Keith into this world.

“So those Blades and Voltron afterwards”, he said to be sure.

They got up into the cockpit, the fit still as tight even if the proximity no longer bothered them. It was comforting in a way.

“Then Zarkon,” Keith nodded with all the seriousness he possessed.

Lotor smiled and put his chin on Keith’s shoulder, his arm reaching the commands to enter the coordinates while the other slid around Keith’s waist.

“Here”, he pointed a spot on the white and blue map on the screen, “According to the locals we met, Voltron and their allies had last been spotted on this planet,” he zoomed in on Dashieru/Vaipra, “We can start our investigations there.”

Keith’s hands were already flying over the commands, the white noise caused by the engine a soft reassurance.

Things were working out, slowly but surely. Soon the universe would be rid of their tormentors.

“Ready?”

He blew into Keith’s ear who looked at him over his shoulder, a growl on his lips and his purple eyes twinkling. Lotor bared his teeth and Keith rolled his eyes before taking off.

They were together; everything would be fine. The rebels, his generals, the Blades, Haggar, Voltron, Zarkon; it did not matter.

They had each other’s back.

The future looked bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late, guys! Hope you enjoyed this story (don't hesitate to leave a comment!) and merry Christmas to you all!  
> Thanks to all of you who commented, left a kudo and/or have subscribed to the story! Love ya! 
> 
> If you wonder : Pierk totally is a Blade sent to spy on Trugg. 
> 
> Timeline:  
> Week 0 : They meet.  
> Week 6: End chapter 1.  
> Chapter 2 starts at Week 9 (Month #2).  
> Month #3. Week 12-13: Commander Trugg arrives.  
> Week 14-15: Lotor is badly hurt. They leave at Month #4.  
> Month #6 - 2 months after their escape : the final scene.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing first: don't hesitate to review! Since English isn't my 1st language I'd like to know what needs to be improved :)  
> [Come say hi!](http://catabase-two-point-oh.tumblr.com/)
> 
> So I stumbled into Keitor month 1 week ago? I shouldn't be writing right now buuut OTP calling, right? Who am I to say no?  
> At first, it was supposed to be a small story for Trust/Betrayal prompt but it's now +8K and I'm horrified by my lack of self-control :O  
> As such, I decided to cut the story into 2 parts since the 2nd chapter also fits another prompt Past/Future. That's why chap2 = Past/Future AND Trust bc who cares?  
> The story is already finished however I must change some things in chap2 and correct what needs to be + I'll be travelling the next week and may not have any access to the Internet so Chap2 may be late by a few days! I'll try to post it on Tuesday buuuut who knows?
> 
> Oh! I know that "Prince Lotor" etc etc can be a bit pompous but in my head, Keith's trying to keep his distance with Lotor thus why he keeps calling him that (even if he slips sometimes!)  
> Finally, to me, Canon!Keith is a poor liar (he seems far too honest) however THIS one had to live all his life in a rigid society where one wrong step can do a lot of things and his mother had kinda dived into a pool of problems so he learnt how to dupe people. He doesn't like it but won't hesitate to use his acting talent to protect others. Like Canon!Keith, he's loyal (which explains why he doesn't like the Generals).
> 
> General timeline:  
> Week 0 : They meet.  
> Week 1-2: The meeting. Keith gives the salve regardless.  
> Week 3: Haggar happens. Keith meets the Generals.  
> Week 4: Start of interrogation.  
> Week 6: The final scene of Chap1  
> Chapter 2 starts at Week 9.


End file.
